The Final Cut
by hobbleit
Summary: A murderous spirit that drives men to suicide latches onto Dean and attempts to drive him to suicide. Lots of Hurt and angsty Dean, protective Sam and angry ghosts. Set early season 2.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is my very first multi-chapter fic. Thanks to lottie122001 for the beta

Please review, comments will help me.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters (except the spirit). I don't even own the title, that's from a Pink Floyd song.

The Final Cut

Prologue

'_It was a dark and stormy night.'_

_No, no, no _Michael thought angrily as he deleted the words from the screen. That was just too clichéd. He wanted this novel to be original and fresh, not the drivel that the first sentence was turning out to be. _Maybe I need a break_, he thought to himself.

He stood up from the table in the small motel room and walked over to the bed. There wasn't much room for pacing about and trying to gather your thoughts. _This place hardly lives up to its' name_, he thought, _the Sunshine Motel it ain't_. _It should be called something like the Hell Motel_. Michael had been staying in this crappy motel room for the last two weeks; ever since his wife had thrown him out of the house.

He sighed heavily and went back to his laptop.

Then the lights started flickering.

"Great," he uttered to himself, he was becoming very annoyed at the unpredictable nature of the motel.

For the last two weeks lights had been flickering, electrical appliances had been turning themselves on and off, doors had been jamming. It was beginning to grate on his nerves. He had tried begging his wife to take him back but to no avail. She was adamant that their marriage was over. So now he was stuck here, in hell, with no money and certainly no dignity.

There was a bang.

"What the hell was that?" He said, standing abruptly and hurrying to the bathroom, where he thought the noise had come from. There was nothing there. "I must be going crazy," he murmured as he went to phone the motel manger to complain, yet again, about the poor state of his room.

Just as he turned, he thought he saw something in the mirror. When he turned to look again there was nothing there. He closed his eyes, shook his head and said "make that definitely going crazy."

The first time he heard the woman's voice, he had just woken from his sleep. He initially thought that it was part of his dream and tried to shake it off. Then he heard it again.

_**Michael? Can you hear me Michael?**_

"Who is that? Who's there?"

_**Michael, go to the bathroom.**_

Despite feeling intense fear, Michael felt drawn to the bathroom. Before he knew what he was doing he was stood in front of the mirror, staring at a woman.

In life she would have been beautiful. Her hair was long and dark and she was dressed in white. Her eyes were black and soulless. He felt drawn to her and lifted his hand to reach out and touch her. He was enthralled by the ghostly woman.

_**Listen to me Michael. You want to take the razor and you want to cut your wrist.**_

"No I don't. I want to be with Nicole. I need to be with Nicole," he replied.

_**But she doesn't want to be with you. She made that clear when she told you to leave. She was the best thing that ever happened to you and you ruined it. You don't deserve to live. You want to take the razor and you want to cut yourself**_

"I want to take the razor and I want to cut myself," he repeated as he picked up the razor and started to draw it across his left wrist. He didn't feel any pain so he repeated the action several times. He looked down at his mutilated arm and saw the blood flow freely. He didn't panic.

_**Now, bring the razor up to your throat and you can end it all. All the pain and anguish will be over soon. You want it to be over. You don't want to live without Nicole and she doesn't want you.**_

Michael didn't even flinch as he put the razor blade to his throat and drew it across his neck. The ghostly woman stared and smiled sadistically as his limp and lifeless body fell to the floor.

_**There. Isn't that better**_She said.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: I got reviews! Yay, I love you all so much for that. here is the next part.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural; more's the pity. I also don't own the name of Michael Truby, I borrowed it from someone I went to school with.

Chapter One

_Two Months Later_

_Just a simple salt and burn, it'll be over and done within no time at all._ Dean thought as the exceptionally angry spirit of Michael Truby hurled him into a gravestone. _Why do things never go as planned?_

Michael Truby had died a couple of months previously. The official verdict was suicide. The people in town had put it down to his wife finding out about his affair and telling him to leave. According to everyone Sam and Dean had talked to, the whole mess had left Michael extremely depressed and no-one seemed surprised that he's decided to end it all. However, now he was a pissed off spirit and terrorising the occupants of the Sunshine Motel, and it was up to the Winchester's to stop him.

So far, it was not going to plan. Michael was determined not to let them kill him and had spent the last ten minutes throwing Dean around the cemetery; which was beginning to annoy the hunter.

"Dean!" He heard Sam yell. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," he groaned, rubbing his hand over his head; wincing as his came into contact with blood. "You get it yet?"

"Not yet."

"Well, hurry it up will you. Being thrown around like a rag doll is not how I wanted to spend my evening!" He yelled as Michael picked him up again and launched him back in the air. He didn't know how, but this time Dean ended up outside the cemetery and rolled down the slight incline until he came into contact with another grave marker. That's strange, he thought. Why isn't it at the cemetery?

He blinked several times until his vision came back into focus and stared at the name on the grave. It read:

_Caroline May_

_Wife and Mother_

_May God Have Mercy on your soul_

There was no date of birth, death, any indication of how she died or why she was buried outside the cemetery.

"Dean!" He heard Sam shout and felt him put his hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," he tried to stand but a wave of dizziness came over him and he would have collapsed if Sam had not grabbed hold of him.

"You really look it."

"Did you get him?" Dean asked, changing the subject while trying to regain his balance.

"Yes, I did. Michael Truby's spirit is no more."

"Good, 'cos he was really startin' to piss me off."

"Let's go find a motel and get you cleaned up."

"That doesn't sound like such a bad idea. C'mon Sammy, get moving."

The Sunshine motel, as it turned out, was not nearly as nice and pleasant as it sounded. It was small, dark, cramped, the wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the hanging light was dangling precariously from the ceiling.

"Home sweet home," Dean said sarcastically as he sat down on the bed nearest the door, putting his head in his hands and rubbing his face.

"You look like crap," Sam observed, as he took the first aid kit from the bag and moved over to Dean.

"Gee, thanks. You're too kind. Can you get this over with? I really wanna go to sleep."

"Well it doesn't look like it needs stitching; I'll just clean the blood and let you get your beauty sleep."

Dean stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the reflection in front of him. His face looked a mess; a huge bruise was beginning to form round his right eye. His head felt like it was going to explode it hurt so much.

He ran the cold water tap and splashed his face. Grimacing slightly, he turned to leave the bathroom but stopped when he thought he saw someone reflected in the mirror. Turning to look at the mirror again, he saw no-one. Must be the head injury, he dismissed and left the room to crawl into bed; falling asleep almost immediately.

Dean's dreams were disturbed. In them, he dreamt of the grave he crashed into outside the cemetery. Next to it stood a young woman, who Dean assumed to be Caroline May. If she had still been alive, she would have been beautiful; with long brown hair and big brown eyes, but in his dream she was horrifying. Her long hair was matted with blood and her eyes were black. She was angry; her features contorted in fury and pain. She was dressed in a long white dress, but the dress was heavily stained with blood which was pouring from her neck and arm. Dean could only stand in terror as she came closer towards him; her right arm outstretched. He could not move as she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him backwards. He landed on his back; wind knocked out of him and he gasped in pain and fear as she straddled him and placed a knife to his throat. She began to laugh maniacally as she prepared to draw the blade across his throat.

He awoke before the knife cut and the pain in his head, which had been excruciating before, became unbearable. Leaning over the bed he threw up on the floor, waking Sam in the process.

"Dean, you okay?" He asked with concern in his voice. He hurriedly got out of bed and went over to his big brother, who was currently emptying the contents of his stomach on the grubby floor of a grubby motel.

"Just fine Sammy," he replied between retches.

"What happened? Is it because of your injuries?"

"No… Just a dream… doesn't matter." He tried to sit up but he couldn't muster the strength and Sam had to catch him before he fell off the bed.

"You wanna tell me what happened in this dream?"

"Not really."

"Dean…" Sam warned, "Don't brush this off."

"I'm not. It was just a dream. It's nothing; don't make a big deal out of it."

"Fine. If you don't want to talk about it, I won't push it. You'd better get yourself cleaned up. You need a hand?"

"No, I don't need a hand," Dean replied sharply, becoming slightly annoyed at Sam's concern. "I can manage just fine by myself." Sam stared forlornly at Dean as he slowly made his way to the bathroom.

For the second time that night Dean found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looked worse than he had done earlier that evening. Dark circles were forming under his eyes and his skin had an unnatural pallor that made him look almost ghost-like. The last few months had been hell for Dean, and things were beginning to take their toll. Resisting the sudden urge to vomit once more, he turned on the shower and stepped in, letting the hot spray beat down on his hurting body and relax his aching muscles.

Sam was worried about Dean. He spent several minutes just staring at the closed door after Dean had entered the small bathroom. He could tell that something was wrong, but Dean being Dean; he would never willingly admit he was in any kind of trouble or pain. Sam wished that, just for once, Dean would accept his help before he got in too deep and there was no other way of getting out of it. Sam shook his head, rubbed his eyes and then got up to clean up the vomit, waiting for Dean to return from the bathroom.

He felt a hundred times better after the shower, almost human even. Stepping out of the shower Dean quickly towelled himself dry and dressed. He was just about to leave the bathroom and crawl back into bed, hoping that Sam had cleaned up the vomit, when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. He stared in horror as he saw something in the reflection that had not been there twenty minutes previously.

A narrow red line across his throat.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for the nice reviews, I love receiving them. A huge thank you once again to Lottie for the beta

Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural, more's the pity.

**Chapter Two**

Dean almost cried out in shock when he saw the red mark on his throat. He rubbed at it frantically, hoping it would go away, but it continued to mark his skin. Panicking slightly he could feel the bile rising in his throat, and not holding it in any longer he fell over the toilet and began to vomit again. He heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Dean, you okay in there?"

"M'fine. I'll be out in a minute." Rising unsteadily to his feet he glanced one final time in the mirror. The mark was gone. There was no indication that there had ever been a long thin red line on his throat that looked like it had been slit. "I must be goin' crazy," he mumbled to himself.

Sam stayed awake for the remainder of the night, watching Dean intently for signs that he was having any more nightmares but he slept peacefully for the duration.

"Dude, you look like crap," Dean commented to him the next morning.

"And yet I still look better than you do."

"Hey, you weren't the one being thrown around by a pissed off spirit. I think I deserve to look like crap. Now, what's for breakfast? I'm starving."

Sam could only gape in confusion at the sudden change in Dean's demeanour. Last night he had been ill and distressed, and now he seemed fine behaving like nothing had happened and stuffing his face with as much food as he could.

"Dude, have you tried the pancakes? They're delicious!" Dean exclaimed happily, glad that his appetite had returned and he no longer felt like emptying the contents of his stomach all over.

"Dean," Sam started to say but Dean wasn't listening. "Dean," he said louder, getting his brother's attention. "Aren't you worried?"

"Worried about what?"

"Dude, have you forgotten what happened last night?"

"No, but I'm feeling better so I'm just gonna forget about it."

"Come on Dean, you spent half the night having nightmares and throwing up and you're just gonna dismiss that as nothing?"

"That's the plan. Can I go back to eating now?"

"Fine. Whatever. You don't wanna talk then don't," Sam gave up pushing. He knew that if Dean didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't.

Dean happily continued to eat while Sam silently fumed. Whatever had happened last night was clearly in the past to him and he just wanted to forget that it had ever taken place. Finishing his breakfast he threw his napkin on the plate and lifted his head to talk to Sam. Instead, where Sam had been sitting a moment ago, he saw Caroline. He gave out a small yell in fright.

"Dean. Dean… DEAN!" He heard someone shout. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, Caroline was gone and all he saw was a bewildered and worried Sam.

"Are you okay?"

"Will you stop asking me that? I'm fine," Dean replied anxiously.

"Yeah, so fine that you start yelling out in a public place? Dean, will you just tell me what's going on?"

"I told you before, nothing's wrong. I just got a pain in my head; you know where I hit it last night."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"'Cos you're looking for things that aren't there. Not my fault you're a naturally suspicious person. Now, where's the bathroom?" Dean stood up and left Sam feeling even more confused than before.

-------

Dean ran the cold water and splashed his face, leaving his hands there for a moment before rubbing his face and trying to ignore the uneasy feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. What the hell was happening to him? Dreaming about a dead woman was one thing but to see her as clear as day right in front of him was another. He had no idea what to do about this. Sam was already suspicious and, not wanting to make him any more suspicious, Dean decided that he was not going to tell Sam anything about this. He'd just keep it to himself.

"Maybe if I ignore it, then it'll go away," he whispered to himself before putting on his game face and going back out to face the world.

Sam kept a close eye on Dean for the rest of the day. He knew that Dean hadn't handled their dad's death very well, and he was beginning to think that Dean's weird behaviour was because of that. He had an annoying habit of bottling his feelings up for as long as he possibly could before everything went to hell and they all came spilling out. Sam wished he would just tell him what was wrong, just to save them both the trouble of what would happen later. However, he noticed nothing unusual about Dean for the entire afternoon and didn't argue when he suggested they head to the nearest bar. He was either completely fine or he was putting on one hell of a front. Sam suspected that it was the latter, but he didn't push it. The last thing he wanted was Dean going off at him and pretending that nothing was wrong when it obviously was.

Once they got to the bar Dean acted as normal. Hustling pool and finding a pretty girl to flirt with. Sam felt relieved and relaxed slightly, but still sat at the table keeping an eye out for any strange behaviour.

Dean was stood talking to a gorgeous blonde girl; laughing and joking as if he didn't have a care in the world. Normally this would have annoyed Sam, but not tonight. It was just good to see him act normal.

"So what brings you to town? We don't get many strangers, especially not ones as good looking as you," The blonde girl asked.

"Just passing through," Dean replied with a smile. She was eating out of the palm of his hand.

"Is that so? How long are you planning on staying?"

"Not quite sure yet. Can I buy you another drink?"

"Definitely."

It felt good flirting with a girl, felt normal. The uneasy feeling that he had had in the pit of his stomach began to disappear the more he let himself relax as the evening wore on; he felt more like his normal self. Whatever had gone on the previous night and earlier that day, he told himself, was obviously not affecting him anymore.

"I'm just going to the little girl's room," the blonde girl's voice bringing him out of his thoughts, "I'll be back in a minute."

"Sure," he responded, giving her his most charming smile. He looked around the bar and saw Sam sitting quietly in the corner, staring intently at his laptop. Standing up, Dean crossed the room to join him.

"Found anything?" He asked.

"Nothing yet but I'll keep looking."

"Yeah, well, if you spent more time searching for hunts and less time watching me you might actually find something."

"How did you know I was watching you?"

"'Cos I know you. Stop it will you, I'm fine. You don't have to worry." Dean stood up and left Sam. He didn't hear Sam say:

"Not gonna happen."

Dean walked back over to the blonde girl he had been with all night, with the intention of going home with her, but he couldn't see her. Where she had been standing seconds previously, he now saw the spirit of Caroline May. The feeling in his stomach came back with a vengeance.

"STOP!" He yelled. "Just leave me the hell alone!"

"Excuse me?" Caroline said.

"I said LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE! Just go away and stop torturing me."

"You're completely crazy," was the reply. Caroline disappeared and in her place stood a very irate and confused looking blonde girl. "You were all over me a minute ago."

"What?" Dean was just as puzzled. "No… I mean…" he tried to explain.

"I don't want to hear it. Don't worry I'm leaving you alone," she cried in disgust and walked off.

Sam had tried not to watch Dean but that was hard when he started yelling at the poor girl for no reason. Gathering up his laptop, he quickly made his way over to his brother to find out what the problem was.

"Dean, what happened?"

"Didn't you see her?"

"See who?"

"The woman."

"You mean the one you just yelled at?"

"No, the woman. The spirit. She was just there a minute ago. Didn't you see her?"

"Dean, I think we should go back to the motel. Something is obviously stressing you out and making you see things. There is no-one there and no-one else has seen anything."

"Dude, don't treat me like a crazy person. I am not crazy. I saw a ghost and I'm not going back to the motel." He started to leave.

"Then where are you going?"

"To salt and burn a corpse."

------

Dean made his way back to Caroline's grave in the woods outside the cemetery. When he arrived she was stood there waiting for him.

_I knew you'd come Dean._

"Is that so?" He said with as much menace as he could manage; which wasn't as much as he'd hoped. He felt weak around her, like she was sucking all the strength out of him.

_Yes, you just couldn't stay away. You're not going to kill me._

"I think I'll be the one to decide that."

_You want to take the knife that you keep round your ankle and you want to cut your arm with it._

"No, I don't," he protested weakly, using all his remaining strength to fight against the urge to follow her instructions.

_Why not? All the pain and grief you are feeling could be over soon. If you cut yourself it will all go away and you'll be free._

"No."

_Don't worry about Sammy. He'll be fine without you. He can go back to school; live a normal happy life and you won't ever have to worry about what your father said. You won't have to kill him._

"Really?" Dean was fast losing the will to fight against her and she was beginning to make sense to him

_Really. It'll all be over very soon if you just take the knife and cut your arm_

Dean felt himself reaching down for the knife round his ankle. He couldn't fight her anymore. He so badly wanted to give up. Wanted all his problems, wanted all the grief and pain he had been carrying around since his dad had died to end. She seemed to be giving him an out, and even though she was doing something to him to make him do this, he didn't try to stop it. He put the blade onto his left arm and pressed down. He didn't feel any pain as the blood came to the surface and started to run down his arm.

_Good, _he heard her say. _Cut yourself again._

He made another cut on his arm and another. He continued to move the blade until the entirety of his forearm was covered in cuts and bleeding heavily.

_Now all you have to do is put the knife to your throat and all the sorrow and agony will be gone. You can be happy._

"Happy," Dean repeated as he moved the knife up to his throat. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Just before he moved the knife across his throat he heard a voice calling his name. A voice that wasn't Caroline's.

"DEAN!" Yelled the voice. Dean didn't respond. "DEAN!" It was closer this time. Just go away, he thought. He didn't get the chance to slash the blade across his throat because he was tackled to the ground; the knife falling from his hand in the process.

"Dean, what the hell?"

"Sammy? Is that you?" Dean replied, coming out from the trance that had taken hold of him. He was suddenly in a great deal of pain. "What the hell?" He asked; looking down at the lacerations that were covering his left forearm. "What the hell is going on?" He asked again, weakly.

"Why don't you tell me?" Sam said angrily. "You've cut your arm to hell and you were just about to slit your own throat. So why don't you tell me what the hell is going on!"

"What, I wouldn't do that."

"Well you obviously would since I saw you about to end it all. Have things got so bad in your head that you feel you have to resort to suicide?"

"What? No."

"You sure? Because you looked fairly certain you wanted to die a minute ago?"

"Sammy, I wouldn't kill myself."

"Dean, I don't believe that," Sam spoke sadly. He was fairly certain that things had become so bad for Dean that he would contemplate suicide, and it made him feel both sad and angry that Dean would not talk to him about it.

"How can you say that?"

"Let's just get back to the motel and get your arm fixed up. I don't want to argue right now," Sam said as he stood up.

Dean winced in pain as he followed suit and slowly followed Sam back to the car.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Once again thanks for the lovely reviews. I really enjoy receiving them. Also thanks to lottie once again for the beta.

Disclaimer: Still don't own Supernatural

**Chapter Three**

Sam didn't say a word to Dean the entire way back to the motel and there was an uncomfortable silence in the car. Dean didn't care though; he really didn't want to talk. He was tired, hurting, and just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

He glanced over at Sam. Angry was not the best word to describe how he looked. He was fuming, but trying not to let it show.

"Sam," he said. There was no response. "Sam," he tried again, louder this time, but still nothing. "Sam, pull the damn car over!" He shouted.

Sam didn't say anything but did what Dean asked. Once the car was motionless, Dean threw open the door to the Impala and vomited on the ground. When the bout of nausea was over he weakly fell against the side of the car and breathed heavily. He felt Sam kneel down beside him and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly.

"Yeah, I just need a minute."

"Let's get you back to the motel," he gently lifted Dean to his feet and helped him into the car. "I really need to fix up your arm."

Dean closed his eyes and the next thing he knew Sam was shaking him awake.

"We're here, come on get out."

"Sure," Dean replied, attempting to stand,but dizziness took over and he fell, leaving Sam to make sure he didn't fall to the ground.

"Easy, I got you."

It took them twice as long to walk to the motel room as it would if Dean was fine. Since the incident at the graveyard he had been lethargic and confused. Sam had been convinced it was from the blood loss but now he wasn't so sure. Opening the door, he dropped Dean on the bed and went back to the car to fetch the first aid kit. After he had finished and was clearing up, Dean curled up in a ball on the bed and closed his eyes.

"Dean?" He heard, "Dean, we need to talk about this."

"No we don't."

"Dean, you tried to kill yourself. I think we need to talk."

"Sammy, I did not try to kill myself. I already told you."

"Yeah, then why did you have a knife to your throat? Dean for once in your life will you just stop being so damned pig-headed and tell me how you're feeling."

"Dude, I don't have to tell you how I'm feeling because I'm feeling fine. There is nothing wrong with me."

"Don't lie to me. You haven't been right since dad died."

"Don't bring dad into this. I did not try to kill myself because of my feelings about his death. I did not try to kill myself period. It was a spirit. I saw her and she told me to cut myself. It wasn't my fault so just quit talking about it Sam."

"No, Dean, I won't. This is serious. You say that it's a spirit, but I don't believe you. For months you've been sullen and angry and on a mission to completely self-destruct. And it has to stop. Because next time you try to kill yourself you might actually succeed."

"Sammy, damn it, I'm not going to kill myself so just stop." He stood up quickly and immediately regretted it. He swayed slightly, but determined not to look weak he held on, and giving Sam one final look, he gathered up his remaining strength and stormed out of the motel room. Sam could only stare in shock at the door as Dean slammed it shut.

Dean made it to the Impala before his strength completely left him and he collapsed in the front seat. Resting his head against the steering wheel, he closed his eyes and fought the urge to vomit. He felt someone beside him and was just about to tell Sam to leave him alone when he realised that it wasn't Sam. It was Caroline.

_Hello Dean. _She said. _You shouldn't listen to Sam. He doesn't know what he's talking about._

"I know," Dean replied faintly. "I don't want to die just because dad died for me."

_You want to die so you don't end up all alone._

"What?"

_If you don't do it then you know Sam will leave first. He'll die or go back to college once the demon is dead. Just think, if he dies it will be all your fault, and if he goes back to college you won't ever see him again._

"I don't want to be alone," he whimpered pathetically.

_I know, and that is why you have to do this. Sam would be better off without you._

"He would?"

_Yes, he would and you know he would be. You think you have to be there to protect him, but you don't. He was perfectly fine at college and you weren't there to look after him then. You need him more than he needs you._

"I can't leave Sammy."

_Yes you can. His life would be better without you in it. If you hadn't taken him away from Jessica, she would still be alive._

"You don't know that."

_Sam would have been there to protect her from the demon if you hadn't dragged him away. And all because you have this fear of being alone. But you don't have to worry about that. If you end it you can be with your mother and father again. You want that, don't you?_

"Yes. So much."

_Well then, you know what you have to do._

"I have to finish the job. I have to end it."

_Yes._

"I don't have a knife."

_Then get one. Go back into the motel; find a knife and then all your pain and all your suffering will be over. Do you understand?_

"I understand. I'm just so tired."

_No you're not. You feel perfectly fine, don't you?_

"I feel fine. I'll go now." Dean opened the car door and walked back to the motel. He paid no attention to Sam; who had seen him seemingly talking to himself and was worried. He walked over to his bag and pulled the knife he usually kept under his pillow and placed it on his arm. Sam had to move quickly to stop him from lacerating his already mangled arm.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam asked anxiously as he grabbed the knife away from him.

"I just want it to end," came the reply. Sam put his hand on Dean's face and turned his head towards him.

"What do you want to end Dean?"

"Everything."

Sam backed away from Dean in horror. Was he really so depressed that he wanted to end it all?

"You don't mean that," he said weakly. Dean paid no attention and started looking for the knife. "Dean, stop it. You're scaring me." Dean didn't seem to hear him at all; it was like he was in a trance. "Dean, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

"I just want it to end," he repeated before collapsing in a heap on the floor.

"DEAN!"


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Once again, thanks for all your reviews. Sorry this chapter took so long to post; my beta, Lottie (thanks to her), was havig some problems with her e mail**

**Chapter Four**

"Dean," Sam cried again, unable to reach Dean before he hit the ground. He kneeled down beside him and shook him frantically. "Dean, wake up," he pleaded. Dean didn't respond at all, he just lay there. Coming to his senses slightly, Sam realised he hadn't checked if his brother was breathing. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his brother's chest moving up and down.

Moving his brother onto the bed proved a difficult task. He was a dead weight. It took several minutes and more than one attempt to heave him the short distance from where he had collapsed to the nearest bed. He grabbed his phone from the bedside cabinet and dialled Bobby's number.

"Bobbyineedyourhelpdeanjustcollapsed."

"Sam?" Came a confused voice from the other end. "Do you know what the hell time it is? Slow down and repeat what you just said."

"I need your help, Dean just collapsed."

"What happened?"

"He's been acting weird for the last couple of days. Bobby, he tried to kill himself."

"What?"

"He tried to kill himself. Cut his arm to hell. If I hadn't have stopped him he would've cut his own throat. I don't know what to do."

"And he just collapsed?"

"Yeah. We had an argument a couple of hours ago and he stormed out. He came back, picked up a knife and was about to slice his arm open again. He said he wanted it all to end and then he collapsed."

"That doesn't sound like Dean."

"I don't want to take him to hospital."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks Bobby," he said and clicked the end button. He looked over at Dean. He was still the same except his face was contorted in pain.

"Dean, are you hurting?" Sam asked, not really expecting an answer and didn't receive one. He sat down next to Dean and put his hand on his forehead. It wasn't warm. He was freezing cold. Not wanting Dean to be cold, Sam took the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around him. Dean whimpered slightly but remained unconscious.

Sam couldn't remember how long he sat next to Dean's unmoving form just staring at the god awful wallpaper. He could hear Dean breathing which was a comfort but he couldn't stop himself from worrying.

"Come on, Dean, you gotta wake up. I don't know what to do," he admitted. "I can't do this alone. I need you. I need you to make sarcastic comments and insinuate I'm a girl. I nearly lost you before and I swear to God I won't lose you now. Wake up and we can find out what the hell caused this." Sam didn't try to stop the tears from falling as he lay down next to Dean and rested his head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and cried himself to sleep.

Sam was woken a couple of hours later by a knocking. It took him a moment before he realised that it was someone rapping on the door. Feeling like crap, he slowly got up and made his way to the other side of the room to answer it. It was Bobby.

"Hey Bobby," he said.

"How is he?"

"The same. He hasn't moved at all since I called."

Bobby went over to Dean and began to examine him. Sam hovered over him until he was finished.

"He's freezing," Bobby commented.

"Yeah," Sam replied, "He won't warm up at all."

"Tell me exactly what happened right from the beginning."

"We were hunting a spirit; it just seemed like a regular job, y'know. But this spirit was pissed off and it threw Dean round the cemetery like a rag doll. I burned the bones and found Dean outside the cemetery next to this grave. We came back to the motel, I patched up Dean and we went to bed. Then Dean had a nightmare and he was sick."

"What was the nightmare about?"

"I dunno, he didn't say. Anyway he seemed fine after that until the next morning when he was acting weird. He dismissed it as usual but then he freaked out in a bar and ran off. I found him stood by the grave outside the cemetery, he slashed his arm and he was about to cut his throat."

"Has he tried something like that before?"

"Never before but he was going to do it again before he collapsed. I don't know what to do Bobby. At first I thought he was acting weird because of the head injury but now I don't know."

"You think it's because of your daddy's death?"

"I don't know," Sam replied rubbing his eyes with his hand. "I never thought Dean would ever try to kill himself but he's just been so unpredictable since dad died that I'm starting to think that he might."

"Have you asked Dean?"

"Yeah, he denied it. I think he's hallucinating too."

"He's seein' things?"

"Yeah, a woman. He says it's a spirit doing this to him but when he freaked out at the bar, there was nothing there. He was yelling at a poor girl. I don't know what to do, I don't want to take him to a hospital but I can't handle this."

"You're right; we can't take him to a hospital. They'd have him committed in minutes. Never mind what would happen if the cops found him. We'll just have to figure this one out by ourselves."

"What if we can't help? What if he wakes up and we can't stop him?" Sam said tearfully. "I can't do this without him."

"It won't come to that," Bobby said vehemently. "We won't let it. Have you considered that it might actually be a spirit?"

"It could?"

"Who was this spirit you were hunting?"

"Michael Truby. He was thirty, just got kicked out by his wife for having an affair. He slit his own throat…" suddenly a realisation hit Sam. "…Just like Dean was going to." He smiled slightly. "Maybe it is a spirit doing this."

"Well then, there is something we can do. We can figure out which spirit and burn it."

"Then d'you think Dean'll get better?"

"I think he will."

"Well let's get on it. Where do we start?" Sam said with renewed enthusiasm.

"Start with local suicides. If the spirit is making the victim's kill themselves then it might have been a suicide victim itself."

"Okay," Sam said.

He was just about to start looking when he heard a noise. Dean was waking up.


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews

This was originally going to be part of the last chapter but I decided to separate them because I didn't want to interrupt either thread. This is what is happenening whilst Dean is unconscious

**Chapter Five**

Dean opened his eyes expecting to see Sam leaning over him. However Sam was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't even in the motel. Panicking, Dean sat up and saw he was outside, next to Caroline's grave.

_Don't worry, _came a voice. _It's just a dream._

"Why am I here? What do you want?"

_I want you._

"Who doesn't?" He replied with more bravado than he actually felt.

_Dean, Dean, Dean. _The spirit shook her head slightly. _Always hiding behind jokes and sarcasm because you can't bear to let anyone know how you're really feeling. Why don't you want to let anybody in?_

"None of your business," he tried to sound cocky but he could only manage a weak protest.

_It's because you don't want to be alone. You think that if you don't let anybody in then you can't get hurt._

"If you know so much about me then why are you asking dumb questions?"

Caroline smiled at him. _Maybe it is better if you are alone. Then you wouldn't have to be such a burden on your family. If you were dead then Sammy wouldn't have to worry about you getting your worthless self killed._

"That's a lie," Dean snarled.

_You know I'm right. Sam doesn't need you, he was happy at college without you. Your father didn't even need you._

"Stop it."

_Why? You don't want to hear the truth? He didn't need you and that is why he left you. You needed them more than they ever needed you. They couldn't wait to get away from you and you just can't seem to see that._

Dean gave a sarcastic smile. "You know, I'm getting the weirdest sense of déjà vu."

_The demon was right._

"Demons lie."

_And sometimes they tell the truth. How can you be sure that it wasn't telling the truth? Maybe Sam was always John's favourite, maybe they don't need you at all._

"Stop it. I don't believe you."

_Yes you do. That is why you cut yourself before._

Dean could feel his resolve weakening. He had tried his hardest to resist Caroline but he was just too tired. He so badly wanted to fall to sleep and for Caroline to just disappear. She had broken his spirit completely.

"Just stop. Please just stop and leave me alone," he cried weakly.

_You know how you can get me to leave you alone. All you have to do is end it all. You have put up such a good fight, really, you have been so brave but now it is time to say goodbye. You are going to wake up soon and when you do you will go back to my grave and you will kill yourself. Do you understand?_

"There's no way that Sam will let me leave the motel room now. He won't let me kill myself."

_Then you will have to stop him before he stops you. When he tries to stop you from leaving all you have to do is knock him unconscious. Then he won't be able to stop you. That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?_

"Yes," Dean said against his will. "I'll knock him out, go to your grave and kill myself."

_Just keep saying 'it will all be over soon.'_

"It will all be over soon."

_Good. Now it is time for you to wake up. _She put her hand on his head and he felt himself being thrown backwards.

Dean gave a loud moan as he started to wake. His head was pounding and he felt sick but the moment he opened his eyes he fell into a trance. He felt nothing as he sat up.

"Dean," Sam exclaimed when he saw him get up. "You're awake! Are you feeling okay? What happened?"

Dean didn't respond to him at all. Instead he picked up the lamp from the bedside cabinet and hit Sam over the head with it. He fell to the ground with a thud.

"What do you think you're doing, Dean?" Yelled Bobby. "Just put the lamp down and we can help you."

Dean paid no heed to Bobby and lifted the lamp over his head once again and brought it down on Bobby. He fell to the floor next to Sam. Dropping the lamp, Dean walked over to the door, opened it and said:

"It will all be over soon."


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the delay with this chapter. Work got in the way. Thanks again to lottie for the beta.**

**Disclaimer: I checked, I still don't own Supernatural**

**Chapter Six**

Sam groaned as he started to come round. He felt awful. He tried to open his eyes but the blinding pain stopped him from doing so. He moaned, fought the urge to vomit, and counted to ten before he attempted to open them again. His blurry vision slowly came back into focus after he blinked several times. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Bobby lying unconscious on the floor.

"Bobby!" He shouted and crawled his way over to him. Bobby groaned when Sam shook him gently.

"What the hell happened?"

"Dean happened," Sam replied. "Oh, God, he's gone."

"Where would he go?"

"I know exactly where he'd go. Come on we've got to hurry." He and Bobby got to their feet and hurried out of the motel room.

Dean found himself once again stood in front of Caroline May's grave. But this time she was not there talking to him. He was in a trance. He knew what he was about to do, and he knew that he didn't want to do it, but he couldn't stop himself. Against his will, he felt himself raise the knife to his throat. He remembered what Caroline had said to him and a tear slid down his cheek. He pressed it lightly on his skin, holding it there for as long as he physically could, before he felt the involuntary urge to press it down harder. Taking a deep breath he prepared to drag it across his throat.

"Dean," he heard someone say. It was distant and weak, but he definitely heard someone call his name. "Dean, don't do this. You don't want to kill yourself."It was Sam.

"Dean, put the knife down." That was Bobby. "Put the knife down and walk over to us." Dean felt torn. On one hand he wanted to listen to Sam and Bobby and put the knife down, but on the other hand his brain kept repeating what Caroline had told him to do.

"Help me," he said weakly. "Please," he begged.

"Just come over here and we can help you. Don't listen to the spirit. You don't want to kill yourself."

"I can't. She's too strong."

"No, she's not," he heard Sam say. "You can beat her, just don't listen. Please, Dean. I can't do this without you."

"You don't need me," Dean said, his voice tinged with a desperate sadness. "You'll just leave again."

"No I won't. I'm not gonna leave you Dean."

"You did once. Everybody leaves me. I don't want to be alone."

"But I'm not leaving again. I'm not going to leave you alone." Sam looked hopefully into Dean's eyes. He was beginning to get through to him, he could see it. "Come on, Dean, you can do it." Sam didn't try to stop the tears from falling down his face. "Don't let her win."

"I can't do this alone, I can't do this alone," Dean repeated over and over. The trance was starting to break. Sam walked over to him and took hold of him before he fell to the floor. It was if Dean had used all his strength fighting the hold that Caroline had on him.

"I got you Dean," Sam held him up. "Come on. Let's get you back to the motel." Bobby, who had been stood quietly while Sam talked to Dean, helped Sam carry his brother to the car.

The sun was beginning to rise as Sam drove the Impala. Dean slept the entire way back to the motel and Sam was reluctant to wake him once they arrived. Sam and Bobby struggled to move his sleeping form from the car. Once they had him settled on the bed Bobby turned to Sam and said:

"I'm gonna go and research this spirit. I'll call ya when I find something."

"Okay, Bobby." Sam suddenly felt exhausted. It seemed so long since he had had a good night's sleep. He glanced over at Dean who was still passed out on the bed. He sighed quietly and decided to take a quick shower before he woke. The feeling of the hot spray on his skin relaxed Sam a great deal. He felt all the tension and angst of the last couple of days melt away and he began to calm down. He didn't want to it to end but he knew that he had to check on Dean. Turning the shower off, he swiftly dried himself off, dressed, and went back into the main room. Dean was still asleep.

Sam watched his brother sleeping. He looked peaceful and innocent, almost childlike. Sam wished that he could look that serene all the time. The last few months had been hell for both of them but Dean had taken John's death particularly hard. Not that he would ever talk about how he was feeling. It was obvious that the spirit had been able to exploit Dean's insecurities, his guilt over dad's death and his fears of being alone to convince him to kill himself. It made Sam feel angry, and he couldn't wait to end the bitch.

Dean stirred slightly and began to come round. He lifted his head and gazed at Sam with a vaguely vacant expression on his face. It took him a moment to figure out where he was, but when he did he moaned, closed his eyes and buried his head in the pillow.

"Hey, how're you feeling?"

"Like crap."

"Wow, you must be feeling bad if you're actually admitting you feel bad."

"Well, that's what'll happen when a psycho bitch of a ghost tries to make you kill yourself."

"You remember what happened?"

"Yeah. I can remember her telling me to cut myself and that if I didn't I would just end up being alone. I didn't want to kill myself but it was like I had no control."

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For not believing you. For thinking that this was about dad's death. I should've believed you when you said it was a spirit."

"You don't need to apologise, Sam. I understand why you thought that. I mean, I haven't been the easiest person to live with recently." Dean looked at his younger brother, an empathetic expression etched on his face. "But I'm not suicidal. I have a lot of issues that I need to work through but I never even considered killing myself. I wouldn't do that."

"Next time a spirit tries to get you to kill yourself, I'll be sure to believe you."

"Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam allowed himself to smile. The familiarity of the exchange brought him relief and a sense that things were returning to normal.

"Ok, that's enough of the chick flick moment; I'm too tired."

"You should get some rest. Go back to sleep."

"I don't want to," Dean said quietly.

"Dean-" Sam started.

"I can't sleep. If I do, she'll be there. She invades my dreams. She's more persuasive when I'm asleep. I'm so tired and I feel so weak but I'm afraid to sleep because I don't want to see her again." Dean couldn't believe that he admitted that he was afraid to his baby brother. He had spent his entire life being the strong one; even when he didn't feel like it. He realised that Caroline had such a strong hold on him that he couldn't even play the part he had long ago carved out for himself.

"You were asleep before. She wasn't there then. Maybe she won't be now. She doesn't have a hold on you." Sam tried to reassure Dean that things were fine but beneath the surface he was beginning to panic. Dean would never willingly open up to Sam and admit to being scared so things must be really bad.

"I was unconscious, not asleep. And maybe she won't be there but maybe she will. I don't want to take the risk. I don't want to try to kill myself again," he sounded so young, so childlike when he spoke; it broke Sam's heart to hear him sound like that.

"It'll be okay, Dean. Bobby will find out who the spirit is and what it wants but in the meantime you need to rest."

"Caroline," Dean said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"Caroline. May. The spirit. That's her name."

"You sure?"

"Yes I'm sure," he sounded slightly offended. "I was at her grave, dude. I'm pretty sure it's her."

Sam sighed and sat down on the bed opposite Dean. "Then what does she want?"

"I don't know why she's doing this but I know she's very pissed. She's not going to stop until I'm dead."

"Then we'll have to stop her. But we can't do anything until Bobby gets back to us so now you have to rest."

"But…" Dean started.

"Rest, now," Sam repeated firmly. Dean was too exhausted to argue anymore and gave up arguing.

"Fine, whatever dude. I'm too tired to argue."

"I won't let you do anything to yourself."

Dean laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. The events of the last couple of days had hit him hard. He was so tired but his mind was racing. He desperately wanted to find out about the ghost and destroy her bones but he knew he couldn't do anything. He panicked slightly when he felt himself fall asleep. Sam noticed.

"You okay?" He asked.

"'Mfine."

"You want something to help you sleep?"

"That'd be good. Can't sleep by myself." Dean gratefully accepted the pills Sam offered him and washed them down with water. He felt the pills take effect. His mind began to feel fuzzy. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Sam said, but Dean was already out. He pulled the blanket over his brother and left him to sleep.

Dean didn't dream for a while, it was all black. It made him feel safe and comfortable because Caroline wasn't there. If she wasn't there, then he wasn't going to attempt another suicide. But this didn't last. Slowly, his dreams came into sharp focus and she was there again. She was standing in front of him, grinning sadistically; taking a perverse pleasure out of Dean's pain. She looked horrifying, her long hair was matted and twisted with blood; her eyes were consumed with fire. Her white dress was no longer white but grey and torn, moving wildly as if blown by some imaginary wind as everything else was still. Her lips were curled in a snarl; showing blackened and rotted teeth. She spoke but her lips never moved.

_You didn't think I'd gone, did you?_

Dean shot up in bed, giving a small yell and gasping for air. Sam rushed over to his side.

"Are you okay?"

It took Dean a few moments to calm down enough to speak,

"Dude, will you stop asking if I'm okay?"

"Was she in your dream?"

"Not for a while. It was all black but then she was there and she was so pissed."

"Did she say anything?"

"She said," Dean hesitated. He had never really been the caring, sharing type and he hated the thought of laying all this on Sam. "She said 'You didn't think I'd gone did you?' How long was I asleep?" He quickly changed the subject, not wanting to talk about it.

"A few hours." Sam felt his body tense up as he sensed that Dean didn't want to talk about it and he didn't want to push it further in case he upset Dean more. He didn't want to force Dean to talk but that didn't mean he didn't want him to completely clam up. "How does your arm feel?"

"Hurts," he winced.

"I'll give you some painkillers but you have to eat something first. Do you think you can manage something?"

"I'll try."

"Toast okay?"

"Sure." Despite not feeling hungry in the slightest, Dean forced down the toast and gratefully accepted the painkillers Sam gave him. He was just happy that he managed to keep it all down. He lay back down on the bed and tried to get comfortable. He closed his eyes and didn't move. He heard Sam's phone ring and Sam answered, but he didn't try to make out what he was saying. He opened his eyes when Sam shook him.

"Dean, Bobby called. He's found out some information on Caroline May."


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, my beta is having computer problems so she got someone else to look at it. Thanks to qsmkitten for the beta on this chapter.**

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. Also I shamelessly stole the name of Caroline's husband from one of the presenters of Top Gear

**Chapter Seven **

"Caroline May," Sam started, "was married to a wealthy man named James May when she was 19. It was a marriage of convenience, she never really loved him and it was said that she was in love with another man. She was supposedly desperately unhappy in this marriage, even though James loved her and showered her with gifts. She was apparently so depressed that she killed herself. James was angry and upset and as a final revenge he refused to give her a Christian burial. He decided instead burying her right outside the cemetery."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because since Mediaeval times Christians believed that suicide was a grave sin because they saw it as a desecration of God's temple. By denying a suicide a Christian burial it denied them a place in heaven."

"Is that why she's a spirit?"

"It could be."

"That is one freaky belief."

"It's not just Christianity that believes suicide is a sin. It's forbidden in Jewish law in all cases and Muslims believe it has a detrimental effect on a person's spiritual journey."

"So, why is Caroline haunting a motel? Her grave I get but not the motel."

"Bobby did some digging and he found that the land the motel is built on was once owned by James May. His home was built on this very site…"

"…And that is where Caroline killed herself," Dean finished.

"Yeah."

"That explains it."

"Ever since the house was demolished and replaced with a motel at least five people have 'committed suicide' every year. All of them were men," Sam explained further.

"So Caroline is persuading men to kill themselves in some sort of revenge kick."

"Looks like."

"Ok, we'll just salt and burn her bones?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa Dean. There is no 'we'll' in this. You are not going."

"Why not?"

"Because she has latched onto you and is trying to get you to kill yourself. She has failed several times now and she is very, very angry. She wants you dead at any cost; she's pretty much said that. You are not going anywhere near her grave."

"Well, I can't stay here either. She's connected to this place too."

"Then we'll take you somewhere safe."

"That's not gonna work. Like you said, she's latched onto me; so wherever I go she will be able to find me. I want to finish this once and for all."

"Dean, you can barely stand up. How do you think you will be able to hold it together long enough to dig up her corpse to destroy it?"

"Sam, I'm not discussing this, I am coming with you and that is final." Sam gave up trying to argue with him and reluctantly agreed to let him come.

"Fine, you can come, but you're staying in the car," Dean started to protest, "No, Dean. You are staying in the car or you are not going."

"Fine, I'll stay in the car," Dean visibly deflated. "Can we just go already?"

Sam pulled up next to the cemetery and stopped the car. Dean had been quiet the entire journey; staring out of the window. The silence had almost been unbearable for Sam; with no music or Dean singing or talking about something.

"Dean," Sam broke the silence. "What's wrong?" Dean stared at Sam for a moment, as if thinking of what to say, before speaking.

"I'm scared," he hesitantly admitted. He almost looked embarrassed to admit that.

"Why?"

"I'm scared that this will never be over and that she'll kill me. I don't want to die, but I think she'll get to me. Sam," he looked into his brother's eyes, "I know I don't do chick flick moments and that I never tell you what I'm feeling but I just want to say… I just want to say it in case you don't get there is time… I just want to say…"

"Dean, don't. I know you're trying to say goodbye and I'm not gonna accept it. I'm never going to let you die and I'm not going to listen to you. I will stop Caroline and everything's gonna be okay. You are going to be fine. Now wait in the car, and I'll get this done as quick as I can. Okay?"

"Okay," Dean said with a slight smile.

Sam exited the car, leaving Dean on his own. Dean suddenly felt all alone and became more frightened. He looked out of the window at the moon. It was full and bright in the night sky. He thought it looked beautiful but slightly forbidding. He felt a presence next to him and he immediately knew that Caroline was back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he turned to stare at Caroline. She looked different from the last time he had seen her in his dream, she looked almost normal. Her hair was smooth and tidy, her clothes were pristine. Had she not been transparent she would have looked like an ordinary woman. That was except for the horrifying expression on her face. She was angry and homicidal. Dean knew that this time she meant for him to die. Gathering his emotions, he buried them deep and prepared to put on his game face.

_It won't work._

"What won't work?" He asked with a snarl, acting tougher than he currently felt.

_Your brother salting and burning my bones. Even after I am gone, you will never be free of me. I won't stop until you are dead._

"Before you kill me, tell me one thing," Dean said cockily.

_What?_

"Why are you doing this? Why have you convinced all these people to commit suicide?"

_Because my death wasn't a suicide. My husband killed me and made it look like a suicide. Then he buried me outside the cemetery so my soul would never be able to rest._

"He killed you?" Dean asked, shocked at this new turn of events.

_Yes, because I didn't love him. I loved someone else and planned to leave with him. James found out and he killed me. He slit my wrist and then my throat. Then he claimed I killed myself. His final revenge. Now I kill men the same way I was killed, to make it look like suicide._

"Wow, you are one vindictive bitch." Caroline gave a laugh, long and evil.

_Do you really think I care what you say? I just want you dead. And you will be soon. You will die._

Caroline's spirit disappeared and a moment later Dean felt himself being pulled out of the Impala and thrown to the ground. Caroline had changed again, no longer did she look normal but how she had looked in his dreams. Her hair was once again matted and bloody, her eyes were black and her face was contorted in fury and pain. Dean scrambled to his feet but he could only stand in terror as she came towards him with her right arm outstretched. He could not move as she put her hand on his chest and pushed him back to the ground. With the wind knocked out of him he gasped in pain and fear as she straddled him. Grabbing the knife Dean always kept with him; she placed it on his throat and laughed maniacally as she prepared to draw the blade across his throat.

Dean tried to struggle against Caroline but she wouldn't let him.

_Stop, _she said; her black, yet hypnotising eyes, boring into his. He immediately stilled. _Good boy._

Sam finished digging up Caroline's grave and opened the lid. Climbing out he salted the bones, dowsed them with fuel and threw in a lit matchbook. He watched as Caroline's bones were engulfed in flames and felt glad that she was gone.

Dean didn't even blink when Caroline's spirit went up in flames; he was still under her spell. Her words were still ringing in his ears as he stood up and began to walk away.

Sam returned to the car shortly afterwards. He was expecting Dean to be there and to be perfectly fine but he wasn't there. Sam started to panic and looked around the surrounding area. He was nowhere to be seen.

"DEAN?" He yelled. "DEAN ARE YOU THERE?" Nothing. Dean had completely disappeared and Sam had no idea where.

"DEAN?" He called out desperately once more even though he knew that he would not answer his call.

"Where are you?" He whispered quietly.


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews. I'm quite amazed by how many I've receive. you all rock.

This is the second last chapter, only the epilogue to go. Thanks once again to qsmkitten for the beta.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural

**Chapter Eight**

Frantically, Sam reached for his phone and dialled Bobby's number. After two rings he answered.

"Hello?"

"Bobby, Dean's gone again."

"What? Didn't you get Caroline?"

"Yes, I salted and burned her bones but when I got back to the car Dean was gone. I don't know where he is Bobby."

"Just calm down for a minute, will ya?"

"But, he's gone. He could be anywhere. He could be trying to kill himself again."

"Sam, shut up and think logically about this."

"What?"

"Well, where has all this trouble been happening?"

"Caroline's grave."

"Yes and where else?"

"The motel."

"So, if he isn't at the grave then the only other place he could be is the motel."

"Thank you Bobby."

"Go save your brother." Sam hung up and climbed into the Impala. His hands shook as he tried to put the keys into the ignition but he dropped them. His hands scrambled as he tried to find them in the darkness. When he found them he jammed them into the ignition and drove to the motel as fast he possibly could, not caring that he was well over the speed limit.

The motel room was completely dark when Sam arrived. It looked ominous lit only by the faint moonlight and Sam could not see any light on in the room. If Dean was in there he didn't want anyone to know it. With fear and dread coursing through his veins and his heart pounding in his chest; he ran to the door and threw it open. Dean was not in the bedroom but the bathroom door was closed. Trying it, he quickly realised it was locked. Dean was in there.

"Dean!" He shouted, "Open the door," there was no reply. "Please," he pleaded. Still no response. "Dean, if you don't open the door now, I'm gonna break it down." Not waiting for Dean to reply he kicked open the door.

He cried out when he saw the shadow of his big brother in the darkened room. He was stood in front of the mirror but was not staring at his reflection. He did not seem to see anything. Sam switched on the light but Dean did not even flinch. Then Sam saw the knife and felt physically sick. He realised that Dean was still under Caroline's spell; his left arm was cut and bloody. It was only a matter of minutes before he turned the knife onto his throat.

"Dean, stop. Stop and put the knife down," he pleaded but Dean didn't react, he just continued slicing his arm. Sam forcibly pulled the knife from Dean's hand and turned him so they were facing each other. Though he was staring blankly into space, Sam could see the pain and fear in his eyes and it nearly broke his heart. "Dean, please," he gently begged, desperately willing his brother to break out of this trance.

Inside his head, Dean was screaming. He wanted desperately to stop but he couldn't; he had no control over his actions. The only thing he could do was force himself to stare into his brother's eyes and mouth 'help me Sammy.'

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed. "I will help you. I'll think of something; don't worry." He had managed to break the trance once before so he could do it again, he thought. What had broken the trance before? That's it; he had convinced Dean that he wasn't alone.

"Come on, why don't we go and sit down?" He led Dean back into the bedroom and sat him down on the bed. "Dean, you can't let Caroline get to you anymore, she's gone. She can't hurt you. You're free of her."

"Am I?" He managed to whisper. "I can still hear her telling me I'm gonna end up alone."

"But you won't. God, you can be so stubborn and pig-headed," Sam exclaimed. "When are you going to realise that I'm not going anywhere. You are all I have left and I'm not just gonna up and leave."

"But what if something happens," he croaked. "What if I can't protect you? I couldn't live without you."

"Dean, don't think like that. I am not going to die. Not while you're here."

"You promise?" Dean was starting to regain some control over himself. He could also feel his emotions bubbling to the surface and a single tear slipped from his eye.

"I promise," Sam smiled slightly. "Look, mom died, dad died and Jess died. I don't want you to die too because of some long dead spirit and her vindictive grudge against all men. She got you convinced that you are alone but you're not. You are my brother and despite your insistence that there should be no chick flick moments; I am going to say this anyway. I love you."

"Don't," Dean pleaded quietly.

"Don't what? Don't tell you that you're the best brother in the world? Well you are. Just please don't kill yourself."

"But her voice is so strong."

"And you're stronger than this."

"I'm not."

"You are. I'm not gonna argue with you on this, Dean. You are so much stronger than her. She's gone and you're not. Most of the men she killed, she did so within a few minutes. You're still alive days later and she's toast."

Sam could see that Dean was beginning to break. He was staring intently at the floor and another tear fell down his cheek. His shoulders began to shake and he fell to the floor. Sam bent down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder as Dean broke down in tears.

"It's going to be okay, Dean. Everything will be just fine, I promise," Sam comforted his older brother as he sobbed his heart out. They were both sitting on the floor for a long while before Dean stopped crying. Regaining his composure, he stood up and shakily sat on the bed. Sam followed him.

"You feeling better?"

"Yeah, I am," he managed to croak out. He coughed a couple of times. "Sam?"

"What?"

"Thanks," he smiled slightly. "Thanks for not letting me kill myself."

"Anytime," he smiled back.

"And if you tell anyone about what happened just now you will pay."

"So the old Dean is back I take it?"

"With a vengeance. Now, can you stitch up my arm before I bleed to death? Wouldn't want all your good work to go to waste.

"I'll go and get the medical kit."

"Go, hurry," Dean motioned and for the first time in days he gave Sam a genuine smile.

"Yeah, Yeah," Sam replied returning the smile.


	10. Epilogue

**A/N: Well, here it is the epilogue. I would like to thank everyone who has commented on my story, you're all wonderful.**

**I would also like to give a huge thank you to lottie and qsmkitten for taking the time to beta for me.  
**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own.**

**Epilogue**

Dean hadn't said a word since Sam started stitching up his arm. He just sat there in silence, not even complaining about the pain.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Hmm?" Dean looked up. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I was just thinking about Caroline."

"Why?"

"You know her death wasn't a suicide?"

"How do you know that?"

"She told me. She said her husband murdered her and made it look like a suicide."

"She could have been lying."

"I don't think she was. She said he did it as revenge because she didn't love him and she drove those men to suicide because of that."

"It's kinda tragic when you think about it," Sam stated

"Yeah, it is." Dean agreed.

"Ok, I'm done," Sam said as he finished bandaging Dean's arm and taped it into place.

"Great, I could sleep for a week."

Sam laughed, "I just can't wait to get out of this place. It's not the best place to be."

"Yeah, I don't want to stay in the place where a vindictive spirit out for revenge on her long dead husband tried to convince me to commit suicide. But leaving is going to have to wait until I have spent the next few days sleeping," Dean replied laughing. He pulled back the covers and crawled into bed.

"Good night man," Sam said as he got up to go to the bathroom. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to go into the room where he had seen his brother slice up his arm.

"You can't avoid it forever you know," a voice came from behind him. Sam didn't even turn around to reply; "Avoid what?"

"The bathroom. You can't not go in."

"I'm not avoiding it."

"Yes you are. And don't. I'm not dead, she didn't win."

"Now you're using my own words against me." He turned around and saw his brother grinning from ear to ear. "You suck you know that?"

"Yeah I know, but you love me anyway."

"Shut up or I will tell everyone what happened."

"You wouldn't!"

"I would," Sam jokingly warned.

"Seriously though, thanks."

"No problem. I wouldn't let anyone hurt my big brother. Besides, you would have done exactly the same for me."

"Yeah. Ok, we seriously have to stop this. We've had enough chick flick moments in two hours to last me a lifetime."

"Just stop complaining and go to sleep if you're that tired," Sam laughed.

"Night Sam."

"Night Dean."

The End


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